IntimacY
by Viktoriya
Summary: Pregnant FBI agents, sweet cannibalistic transvestites, night St. Petersburg, and more. R&R PLEASE! I've changed it slightly btw.
1. Love is Strange

Disclaimer: No, I'm not Thomas Harris, but I wish I had his money! In all seriousness, though, I don't own the characters of Hannibal I'm-oh-so-sexy Lecter and Clarice I'm-oh-so-lucky Starling. This is merely a fanfiction.

WARNING: The author is not a native English speaker, so be gentle.

Info: Two years after Memphis.

"Why are we whispering?"

"It's intimacy"

Viktoriya Tokareva, "Tu es..."

**CHAPTER 1: Love is Strange  
**

Starling woke up in the dark. Her sleep had not refreshed her; she woke up bilious, irritable, ill-tempered, and looked with hatred at her room. Its stillness was almost unnatural. The screaming was so vivid; it took her a few minutes to realize that it was just a dream.

Then she remembered. It was not a usual screaming. There was no screaming at all.

The lambs were silent. They were standing in the dark sheep pen and they were silent. Ten pairs of black oval eyes were staring hard at her.

Her cell phone rang insistently; a late call again, but to Starling in her present state of mind this was positively agreeable.

"Hello?"

"Good evening, Clarice"

Starling's hand shot out to the night table.

"Did I wake you? Sorry"

"Good evening, Doctor Lecter". – Her voice sounded alright to her.

"Don't bother to look for the .45, Clarice, you won't need it. And I'm afraid I had to disconnect your telephone from the Network; you'll be able to fix it up easily. There's a trace-alert on it, is there not?" – A pause. – "Hmmmm. Your voice has deepened".

"Has it?"

"You started smoking, didn't you?"

"I did, yes".

"Must I tell you that it is rather unhealthy, Officer Starling? Although I do find it is a stroke of good fortune for me."

"Why, Dr Lecter?"

"Your smell, Clarice", - was the answer.

"Makes it much easier to indicate where I am, doesn't it?"

"Precisely" He's near.

Feeling as if she were moving under water, Clarice Starling leaned back against the pillows and took a deep breathe. She was facing the biggest miscalculation in her life. How sad...

"And how do you want to kill me?"

"I could ask you the same question".

"What?"

"Clarice. If my death is the only way for us to play - so be it. But if you are not tricky enough, I'm afraid the game will end rather abruptly. And we wouldn't want that to happen, would we now, hmmm?"

"You said you had no plans to call on me".

"Aren't I giving you what you love the most, Clarice Starling?"

"Advancement?"

"Of course. I'm still among FBI Most Wanted. Take your chance, Officer. How often did you see me in your mind's eye, Clarice?"

"Every day".

"Hmm. Surely Daddy wouldn't approve such an obsession with a serial-killer?" – He drawled.

"Why do you want me to kill you?"

"You always were so much fun to toy with". In Montana Starling often saw a farm cattoying with a half-dead mouse. The game would not last long.

"I understand you want to die?"

He chuckled quietly. "Are you asking me, Officer Starling, if my little oddities have driven me to suicide thoughts? Don't be silly. It has a certain appeal, though, dying from those shapely hands of yours, wouldn't you agree?"

"No."

"The truth is I'm rather bored and the only person who can entertain me is an FBI agent." He said in a sorry voice.

So much for another round of mind games.

"What if I say no?"

"You know the answer."

A beat. Then a sigh from Starling.

"Dr Lecter?"

"Clarice?"

"I'm terribly sorry, but I didn't follow your advice not to look for the gun. I have it in my hand now and the muzzle is inch away from my temple. So you'd better choose another game or you'll have to play alone."

Cold silence followed.

Tick-tock, tick-tock…

Wake up, girl. Get some clothes on, call the police, go look for the Doctor. Come on.

Too late. The door cracked and Dr.Lecter himself stood at the doorstep. My, he indeed could kill me whenever he wanted to, she thought.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. That is a very dirty trick, you know that?"

Something stirred in her. "You look good, Doctor."

He stood still, unblinking.

"I'm glad you find me so, Clarice. Now could you please put the gun down?" – He started to move gracefully along the wall, never taking his eyes off her – "It is very annoying".

"Is it? You make one more step and I pull the trigger."

Lecter stopped in a dark corner, so she could barely see him.

"Why don't you ask me where I went to after Memphis?" – His voice moved lower. He must set on the floor.

"Florence?"

He laughed quietly. "Oh, Clarice, that's the first place FBI would think I went to."

"Because ofthe drawings."

"Yes."

"Are you planning to go there as soon as you're finished with me, sir?" – She asked casually.

"Finished with you, Clarice? Hmm-- I think if it really happens I'll stay here in your house. If you don't mind, of course."

How lovely. "But-- they will find you-- the house will be full of cops and--"

"If you take your own life, that is. Yes, they'll stick around for a while. I do not want to find out how you taste, Special Agent Starling. At all. So why pull the trigger?"

"I don't believe that, Dr Lecter."

"I didn't expect you to. The gun, Clarice: it is still in your hand. You only need to point it at me and shoot."

Staring at the corner he was sitting in, Starling unhurriedly put out the bullets and dropped them on the floor. The gun followed.

"And you, Doctor, you only need to take out your Harpy and..."

She jumped when she heard something metallic rolled over the floor to her bed.

"Take it." – And she did. The knife reminded her of an ace's sting. Starling pushed the blade inside and squeezed the handle that still had the warmth of his hand.

Lecter went on a knee before her bed and winked at her, a seductive smile on his red lips.

"What happens next, Dr Lecter?" – She asked as she looked at his fingers stroking the covers. He tilted his head, sighing.

"Oh Agent Starling…" – Lecter eyed the bed – "Ummm. Give me some room, will you?"

She obeyed and in bare seconds the Monster was lying beside her.

For the first time she could actually feel the warmth radiating from him.

His eyes were closed. Dr Hannibal Lecter off duty, Starling thought. Catch the feeling.

"Have the lambs stopped screaming?"

"Yes" – it was a bare whisper.

"Tell me, Clarice, tell me"

Starling turned to face his dark profile. "They are silent. They stand there and they are silent. I open the pen and wave them to come out, but they stand still. They just look at me. I know they will be all killed in the morning and I try to safe them. But they just won't come out--" She had to stop because of the sudden limp in her throat.

"Why don't they want to come out, Clarice?" Lecter's own voice was not as stable as it had been a minute ago.

"They… resigned to their fate".

"Resigned to their fate" - He echoed. - "Silence of the Condemned… Standing in the elevator with all those upper-crust toffs around, have you ever felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights? They don't take you too seriously, do they? Rural background, thousands little goals along the way, the distance is too long, the lamb is too heavy. Nothing can set you free, Clarice, as your God, the Night Watchman, is long dead. Will you tell me if they ever come out?

"Yes, Dr Lecter; yes I'll tell you"

"So why not come out yourself first? You don't need to make up your mind right now"

She heard him turning on his side.

"Clarice Starling, did your father ever flirt with his wife in your presence?

"Yes"

"Did you ever want to replace your mother? Did you ever feel you were kept aloof?

A beat. "I don't recall that, Doctor. If I did envy her, I had no right to complain".

Hannibal Lecter reached his cupped hand into the deep neckline of her dressing gown and freed her breast, quickly peaky in the open air. 'Now you do" - he bent to her coral and cream his dark sleek head.

* * *

_In the Beginning Harris created 'Silence of the lambs'. And Harris said: 'Let there be a book" and there was the book. And Demme saw that the book was good; and he invited Hopkins over there... Many years passed, and then the Lecterphiles appeared._


	2. Plague

**CHAPTER 2: Plague**

Clarice Starling's Mustang boomed up the underground garage of the Quantico Field Office. She removed the seat belt and stepped into the cool air of the garage. In the dark depths of her nice bag she had a piece of bond paper which said in an engaging hand:

_The time that every star shines down on us_

_When Love appeared to me so suddenly_

_That I still shudder at the memory._

_Joyous Love seemed to me, the while he held_

_My heart within his hands, and in his arms_

_My lady lay asleep wrapped in a veil._

_He woke her then and trembling and obedient_

_She ate that burning heart out of his hand;_

_Weeping I saw him then depart from me._

* * *

"Starling, I've got an official medical report for you".

She turned to the incomer, but instead of the proffered files saw…

…and felt herself being caressed and bit and kissed and sucked in the darkness. A blink. He thrust fiercely and sank his lips into her neck. A blink. He put his hands behind her thighs and held them up high. A blink. A cry, her cry, filled the dark room and everything went black.

"Starling! Wake up, will you?"

"I'm sorry, Ted, I was elsewhere"

"So it seemed" Ted Calvert used to dangle after her, but quickly gave up his attempts, which she was grateful for. "Here" He handed her the files "The autopsy results came in -- the body was in full rigor mortis. The rate of the growth of the maggot eggs next to the decedent's eyes suggest 8 hours have elapsed since the time of death"

"Any skin found under the fingernails?" The darkness again, and she felt him exploring her hungrily.

"No. No bruises or small wounds either. There was no struggle" After short struggle, he pinned her to the bed once more and playfully nipped at her jaw. "Like the other victims, this man was carefully undressed and brought to a public place at night, where everyone could see him".In the morning he had the bluest eyes she'd ever seen on a human being."The medical examiner says he was poisoned". Calvert waited for her reaction, but she continued nodding. "You don't seem to listen"

"On the contrary, I'm all ears" She lied. "Proceed"

"The poison which the murderer used has a very distinctive taste, Starling. You can't hide it with sugar. Seems like the decedent took it voluntarily".

"Being held at gunpoint?" Much to his own surprise Calvert had her full attention now.

"No. It is very likely that he was hypnotized and didn't even feel the pain in his stomach. He drank the full glass".

Oh dear, she thought. I don't have any wine glasses. Is there any chance Hannibal Lecter will forget to buy wine while shopping?

Hardly.

Calvert kept on and on retelling the official report as Starling watched his lips blankly. Finally, he concluded:

"It's his forth victim. I think we're dealing with a sane person here. Madmen can't really hypnotize, can they? What do you think?"

He was about to thieve her donate, when heard the absent answer:

"I think I'm taking get off"

* * *

The front door was unlocked, exactly as she left it. Starling stepped into the cool semi-dark, and turned on the lights. Stop, listen. Empty silence. Pulling off her shoes, she came up to the mirror. Cognac was cheap but strong enough to keep her from chewing Pepto-Bismol tablets, and that was all she needed. Starling set close to the barman with a pile of magazines in order to avoid any possible pestering. She'd read a couple of criminological pieces when her eyes ran against the title "**The logic of chaos**". As she left, one paragraph in the article remained sloppily underlined (by a shaky hand?):

"…one of the FBI Most Wanted Dr Hannibal "The Cannibal" Lecter. This highly educated madman escaped from the custody two years ago; shortly before that, being prisoned in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, Lecter got into some kind of "romantic" relationship with an FBI trainee of that time and now Special Agent Starling, whom he actually helped with the Buffalo Bill Case Investigation. Apparently, Hannibal the Cannibal has no plans to call on Ms Starling; after all, he's the last person to demonstrate Expected Conduct"

Clarice watched dizzy darkness of the living area. The only source of light was a slack fire in the fireplace. Slowly, she took off her coat and put it on the locker. He's right there, beyond the doorstep, creeping along the wall like a huge spark. Bogyman.

_The last person to demonstrate Expected Conduct. _

Unbuttoning her shirt, Starling stepped inside the room.

_Dr. Lecter, in his white asylum pajamas, was standing there, hands on his sides. Smiling and starring at her unblinkingly, he smoothly came closer. _

There was no one in the living room. She saw tall crystal on the side table, blazing logs, unlit candles, the bar full ofwine bottles, a sideboard which apparently didn't fit into the kitchen and a classic stereo system elegant enough for the Royal Palace. There was a smell of restaurant cooking in the air. Starling sensed there were many more new things around her, but she decided to put off a more thoughtful investigation till later.

Taking off her shirt, Clarice started to go up the stairs.

_At night he never sleeps._

She reached to turn the knob and felt a light caressing touch on her arm. She didn't hear him move.

"Good evening, Clarice"

Slowly, she turned around and found herself face to face with Hannibal a beat he dropped his gaze to her lips and leaned closer for a brief kiss. It definitely excited him to see her in this particular way.

"Patience, My Dear"

It is hard to say who is more surprised by her words. Neither of them, however, shows any emotion.

Abruptly, Lecter stops his attentions, his eys snap open, lips leave her cheek as he pulls away far enough to study her. His nostrils flare with distaste. Yeah Doctor, I like cognac. SO WHAT.

"Would you like a late meal, Clarice?" – He asked.

"No" – She slipped out of his grip and once again reached for the door-handle. – "May I?"

He stepped back, hands falling to his sides, face unreadable. Once in the bedroom, Starling walked over to the closet.

"Mind if I change my clothes?" – She heard him close the door. In the closet she found a variety of new clothes, dresses, pants suits and what not. A beat. – "Ummm, could you kindly come up here and unsnag my brassiere? I can't seem to do it myself. Too much cognac." – It was pretty much like teasing a mamba.

Watching Clarice unzip her skirt and pull it down, Hannibal Lecter went to the coach and dropped easily into it. The Monster smiled at the sight of Clarice's nude figure, but said nothing. Starling passed him by to take a shower. Soon after, she appeared at the doorstep, wearing a new-found dressing gown and her old bunny slippers. Lecter hadn't changed his pose.

Clarice slipped under the covers. Beats of silence, and she spoke:

"I was restless all day long. I was thinking about you. The night we shared. It's like measles or plague, that feeling".

Lecter seemed to be perfectly still.

"Interesting parallels. I'll draw my one, Clarice,if I may. What drives you when you're aroused? "

"Pleasure…" - Her smile disappeared as Doctor bounded to his feet, all tense:

"No! It is displeasure. The feeling of discomfort. If you were happy with what the preliminaries can bring, you wouldn't be eager to continue. A moth wouldn't approach a light in broad daylight, Agent Starling. You could still feel my touches all over your body, didn't you, at the FBI Field Office?

He leans over Clarice now, close enough for her to feel his breath on her skin.

"Tell me, Special Agent Starling, did you press your thighs together when no one watched?" Lecter sucked on the side of her neck and heard her inhaling sharply. He smiled to himself.

"It could ease the tension temporarily, but not satisfy the libido" He was drawing circles over her tummy with his forefinger. "And unsatisfied need can easily turn into strong displeasure". – Lecter was delivering the words slowly as if being under the effects of a drug. His hand snaked under the covers and moved down her body. He then slowly parted her thighs and caressed the inner sides of them. His palms were so warm and smooth that Starling felt the urge to giggle. "Wouldn't it be a pity hmmmm?"

"Clarice, fisrt sexual experience is closely connected with taking nourishment". - Doctor started to kiss his way to her exposed nipples. – "Thus sucking… on a woman's breast…as an adult… is always… the second experience". – Starling moaned quietly and tilted back her platinum head, which he found curiously charming. Enjoying the taste of her, Hannibal Lecter almost closed his eyes with pleasure, like a cat whom one is tickling gently behind the ears with one's finger.

Almost too soon he withdrew and kissed his way back to her mouth, stopping bare inches from it.

"All good things", - his lips were slightly stroking hers now, - "to those who wait", - And then she felt cold air pouring between them as his body left hers. He had stood up. Shocked, she simply stared at his figure moving away from her.

"Where are you going?" – She managed finally, more than slightly irritated.

"Downstairs, to get myself a drink. Come and join me", – He then turned his back on her (Starling's mouth fell open) and disappeared in the dark hallway. After a slight hesitation, she jumped up from the bed and wrapped up her rope, eyes sparkling with irritation. That's the kind of performance Chilton would give, Hannibal dear. She heard him open the purchased wine and put the bottle back in the bar.

"Oh, here you are", - Lecter said, savoring her expression. – "What would you like to…"

"You". - She interrupted, rising her brow seductively. An evil smile appeared on Lecter's red lips. He took a sip from his glass and crossed his legs. Hmmm, suppressing the discomfort, Doctor? She smiled to herself and decided not to say it out loud just yet– it'd make him play smarter.

She started a slow approach towards him.

"Why don't you have a glass of wine, Clarice? No? Please", - Lecter said, inviting her to sit. What she did next surprised them both.

Clarice chose the farthest corner – a tall armchair near a small round table. Doctor's smile melted.

"Clarice, it's not that warm in here. Sit closer to the fire", - He patted the surface right beside him.

Starling wasn't listening. She made herself comfortable and slightly opened her flimsy dressing gown.

"Phew! Boy, is it hot in here".

Lecter pursued his lips and took another sip. Looking always into his eyes, Clarice crossed her naked legs, which made her dressing gown open wider. Hannibal Lecter watched her with pure curiosity, smiling. – "It is so hard to restrain oneself, isn't it, Dr.?" – She asked in kindest of tones. – "Think I didn't notice all those restless movements _you tried so desperately to shed_? Feeling discomfort, aren't you? Are you strong enough to restrain yourself? I can take off this robe and come so close you won't be able to say where your body ends and where mine begins. How about it? I'll touch you like no one ever touched. Is this task complex enough for you? Or maybe you're just afraid you can't make it".

Dr. Lecter's friendly smile widened and he eyed her with a mix of fondness and animal need. He rose in his own time andcame closer, stopping himself with obvious effort as he neared her.

"Clarice, has it ever occurred to you that I have no desire", - the glass was left behind, - "in restraining myself? Is there any use in it? No. Not if two people want something as much as this", - slowly, Lecter went on his knee and leaned closer, whether to kiss her or bite her, she could not tell.

"You love your games, don't you, Dr.?" – He didn't respond. - "And showing off, weirdness, all that bullshit -- fuck her, go to sleep. It's easy". – A nip at her earlobe, - "The last game of yours was merely cheap". – A trail of wet kisses down her neck and exposed breasts. - "Always leave them…mmm… want more. Old trick". – Hot palms parted her thighs – "That's the only weakness I ever saw in you…oh god…" - Lecter pulled her pelvis to him with such force she nearly fell off the arm chair, - "you have to look smart", - He kissed her inner thighs, - "smarter than any…body…" - Starling was quite willing to continue telling him off, but all her thoughts ceased with the first stroke of his tongue.

He didn't look up at her. Firmly holding her thighs in place, Hannibal Lecter went completely into his work. It might as well be only her vulva without the rest of herlying there before him like some delicious restaurantmeal.

Whenhe finally withdrew, having brought her to the very edge of orgasm for at least six or seven times, her eyes blinked open and she straddled him, sucking his lower lip into her mouth. Biting and flicking her breasts,Lecter lowered Clarice on her back and moved forward over her, his lithe body completely enveloping hers. Feeling his desperate, routh, rhythmic thrusting, his teeth on her shoulder, she let her eyes drift shut. Here she was, lying beneath a wanted criminal and letting him fuck her senseless. My, my…

* * *

_In the Beginning Harris created 'Silence of the lambs'. And Harris said: 'Let there be a book" and there was the book. And Demme saw that the book was good; and he invited Hopkins over there... Many years passed, and then the Lecterphiles appeared._


	3. A drop falling upwards

**CHAPTER 3: A drop falling upwards**

At 10 p.m., November the 15th, Clarice Starling and Hannibal Lecter, both fully dressed, were sitting in the living area before the only source of light -- Clarice's modest-looking fireplace, talking about linguistics.

"Each nationality sees the reality through the prism of its language, Clarice" - Doctorpaused to take a sip from his glass-"In Russian there's a word "тоска" that doesn't exist in any other language. They translate it as "yearning" or "anguish", but it isn't anywhere near the true meaning of the word -- hmmm –"

Starling watched Lecter as he closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet.

"Your scent has changed" - Dr pursed his lips and smiled to himself. Chaos. Chaos. A drop falling upwards.

"Can you smell it on yourself, Clarice?" – Oh, she doesn't know. It's early days, then.

"Smell what?"

"That peculiar milky odor is pre-colostrum. And your sweat's chemical composition is somewhat heaver. Remember it, it's the smell of pregnancy".

Starling's eyes widened. "What did you just say?" – "You're pregnant.I suggest you see a doctor. Can you function alright?"

"What do you mean I'm pregnant?" – She heard her own voice from far away, ringing like an insistent doorbell. – "That is impossible. You always had condoms on…" – "Not always" – "And I was on the pill".

Lecter was silent.

Clarice just sat there quietly and stared at the carpet. She never spooked easily. She looked down at her hands and was surprised to see them trembling violently.

Ouch.

Something stuck into her left arm and, mechanically, she turned to see what it was, only to meet with a pair of pale blue eyes.

In his right hand Doctor held a syringe.

"No man, no problem -- is that how you deal with nuisances, Hannibal Lecter?"

"You know it is" – he whispered in her ear, lifting her in his arms.

Next thing she knew she was lying in her bed under the covers. She tried to focus and saw a dark figure leaning over her.

"Well, Clarice, do you think your DADDY would be shamed and crushed by your disgrace? Having sex with an FBI Most Wanted and as a result getting pregnant -- what a sorry, pity end of promising career. Will people forever say you're evil? Tell me truly, Special Agent Starling".

Dr Lecter leaned closer and she felt him caressing her cheek gently.

"You're not crying. You can be as strong as you wish to be. You are a warrior, Clarice. It's your baby and you have to protect it. You are a warrior".

"Nothing to fall back on, is there, Clarice? Where to go, when there's no place to go? All you need is right inside you" The Monster put his palm on her belly caressing the spot under her womb inside which was already growing a tiny new life: "Your home is here."

The silence was complete.

* * *

_In the Beginning Harris created 'Silence of the lambs'. And Harris said: 'Let there be a book" and there was the book. And Demme saw that the book was good; and he invited Hopkins over there... Many years passed, and then the Lecterphiles appeared._


	4. Fly, fly, fly

**CHAPTER 4: Fly, fly fly…**

All Deputy Assistant Inspector General Krendler looked at her blankly. "Have you lost your fucking mind, Starling?"

She blinked. "No, sir, I…"

"PMS?"

"Mr. Krendler, I really have no interest in your opinion. They'll have to find replacement. Behavioral Science is more than popular among field agents, so it won't take long".

"Ms Starling" – Krendler stepped closer so that he could have a better view down her blouse – "There are more important things I must devote my attention to. I have no desire in being your messenger"

Well fuck off Krendler. "I understand fully, sir. Have a good day"

He looked after her as she quickly made her way down the corridor. Starling, Clarice M., one of Jack Crawford's. The Guru was now expecting her to come directly to Behavioral Science, the FBI section that deals with serial murder, since she'd already gone trough all the routine in FBI Field Offices. Krendler came in Quantico on business and now was more then willing to pull some strings for this blondie. Then he could ask her out. Tit for tat.

But Starling wasn't going anywhere, neither to Washington, DC nor to Behavioral Science, which she coldly asked him to notify Section Chief about.

And for some reason, she'd been avoiding talking to Crawford in person.

That's… strange.

* * *

Mr. Leiser, Starling's boss in Quantico, had an annoying habit to thrum on anything he could get his fingers on. 

"I'll need your whereabouts, Starling" – he said suddenly slapping his palms onto the table.Clarice made a successful effort not to flinch.

"Why, sir?"

"Well that's procedure. We don't let off our best agents that easily. You always can change your mind. Although, I must admit I don't welcome at all that kind of behavior. You have a double major in psychology and criminology, two years in Field Offices… And of course -- the capture of a serial killer. That's quite a promising career. Look at me, Clarice" – He leaned over – "Do you really want to leave all this for some kind of gig temping? Tomorrow you'll have to go to the local labour exchange and sign on… unless you haven't found yourself a filthy rich hubby"

Starling said nothing.

"Alright. Can I use the address listed in your file?" Chemison started to gather her papers.

"No"

He looked up at her. "Are you leaving the town?"

"Yes"

"Give me a working email address"

"I've put the commendation inside" – He continued, pointing at the paper-case in Clarice's hands as she rose to leave. "You'll have to come over by 1700 hours Monday to complete the 'discharge'. O.K., Starling, all the best".

* * *

"On behalf of Captain Hoover and your crew we welcome you aboard our early flight to Buenos Aires…" 

The cabin lights were dimmed for takeoff and a few minutes later the plane began moving, taxiing down to reach the takeoff runway. Clarice peered out of the window as she answered her cell phone.

"Starling"

"Clarice, please tell me it's not true"

"Hey Delia"

"Yes or no: did you resign?"

"Yes"

"I'm sorry, but are you out of your fucking mind!" Ardelia Mapp is gone to Seattle on the federal case. She's got a boyfriend and a cupboard full of delft ware. "Jesus, Starling, I thought they all have gone crazy over there! What the fuck happened to you, what is it? I'm just… I have no words…"

"I'm okay, Ardelia, really. I'm okay and I'm out"

"Girl, listen, we went all the way through the Academy together and I never expected such a thing from you… to say the least. Did they treat you that bad at the Field Office?"

"No, I was told I'm one of the best agents"

"Then WHY did you resign for goodness sake?" A new helpless note in Mapp's voice. Something Clarice never heard before.

"Ardelia, I'm pregnant" Even though Starling was prepared for the dump silence that followed, it was so frigid she nearly thought the line went dead.

"You've really gotta stop to act like another person completely, Clarice Starling"

"Delia, no kidding around, I really am expecting"

"Shut it Starling, shut up. I have to prepare mentally. You've already done more damage to my psycho than all those serial killers".

Starling laughed. "No doubt"

As usual, Mapp got to the point at once. "Who's the father?"

Dr Hannibal Lecter. "Um, this guy from IKEA, we were dating for 2 months or so"

"Thanks for telling _me_! Hey, hold on there. Why the Past Tense?"

"BEcause we split up"

"Oh, shit, really? God it's so like men. But… he knows?"

"No"

"Oh, uh – ok, great. Next question. Are you going to…um…are you gonna keep it? How far along are you?"

"Two months. Ardelia, I'll keep this child and I'll bring it up"

"All on your own?"

Daddy must be somewhere behind watching if there aren't any loose ends left. He's booked an only de luxe suite in Claridge Hotel; an act bordering with whimsy, but it could not be any other way. Hannibal Lecter's mind is already made up. He knows with absolute certainty who he is and who everyone else is around him. Taste serves him as a regulating system where any defect brings a whiff of absolute chaos.

"Yeah all on my own, hon"

Beats of silence. "Okay, Starling, don't you panic. I'm on your side. Listen, they'll keep me here for another pair of days, and then I'll drop in and cook for you…"

"Delia, I'm not there, I've left Quantico. I need some refreshment, girl" She felt like a card-sharper at the showdown. "I'm on my way to Europe"

"Who are you and what have you done to my friend?"

"Now listen to me. I may be gone for quite a while, but I'll be fine and more than fine. Just don't let anyone named Paul Krendler or any other idiot moron from the Deputy in the door, okay?" Starling was looking at the endless expanse of clouds, unbroken and milky white, beneath her.

* * *

_In the Beginning Harris created 'Silence of the lambs'. And Harris said: 'Let there be a book" and there was the book. And Demme saw that the book was good; and he invited Hopkins over there... Many years passed, and then the Lecterphiles appeared._


	5. Intimacy

**CHAPTER 5: Intimacy**

"Buenos días, señorita! Por aquí, haga el favor".

"Um, Claridge Hotel, per favor. Claridge"

"No hay problemas. Americana?"

"Sí, sí"

Starling spotted a couple dancing tango right at the small square before one of the luxury hotels. She was suffocating, despite the fact that she set as close as possible to the driver's air-conditioner. Her whole body was aching, and she restlessly eyed huge crowds stretched along the Rio de la Plata's beaches.

…After sliding her card-key through the keyless lock, Clarice entered the dark suit, only to see a black silhouette against the tall windows. She closed the door and pressed her back against it, not trusting her legs just yet.

* * *

He smoothly came closer, caring the air of absolute stillness around him. For one tiny moment, she thought of him as of a normal human being seeking for warmth as we all do. His knowing hands run down her back, smoothering the pain inside her. 

"I trust you had a nice flight, Dear" – he then said softly and lifted her off her feet.

"I've got to find a regular doctor, Hannibal" – she wrapped her arms around his neck as he gave a low chuckle.

"Oh, Clarice, you did it long ago" He carefully laid her down on the king-sized bed and went on a knee before it.

Starling closed her eyes and instantly felt her shirt buttons being masterfully undid.

"Hannibal Lecter, what is it you're doing?"

"Why, Clarice, I'm removing your clothes, of course" His nostrils flared as her scent filled them. Lecter's fingers reached for her skirt zipper and eased it down slowly. Suddenly she felt his tongue give a rough, cat-like lick between her heaving breasts.

Clarice tsked, not opening her eyes. "What you're really doing, Doctor, is trying to seduce a tired woman in a certain condition". He was placing small gentle kissesall overher swelling belly. "I may not be a very pleasant company within the next six months, my dearest. But with all due respect, Hannibal, if you start complaining I'll shoot you.

"Spoken like Mata Hari"

Lecter pulled her up and quickly removed her shirt, as you do it with a half-year old after a fresh walk outside; then gently pushed her back onto the pillows. His hands were on her waist now, slowly pulling down the skirt. Not taking his eyes off her, he rose from his knees and sat on the bed, bending over Clarice's half-nude form. Admiring the view, the Monster leaned closer and freed one of her breasts.

"Clarice. Your scent is no longer one of a Virgin"---- Lecter paused to flick her nipple ---- "but one of a Mother. It makes you complete." He reached for under her back and undid her bra. Slowly, stroking and caressing all the while, he pulled off her stockings and panties. Starling found herself moving against his professional fingers in a strange rhythm as she heard the zipper of his trousers open.

"Alright, Doctor. You have twenty seconds to remove your clothes. Or should I light a match and count?"

Obviously, Dr Hannibal Lecter never had the pleasure to do his military service; otherwise he'd establish a reputation of the fastest undresser-AND-under-the-covers ever.

"Hannibal?"

"Mmm?"

"Sorry to distract you, but I really need a personal physician"

"I've never had one myself and I'll see if it never happens to you." Lecter reached down to part her legs, when felt her hands press against his chest.

"Hannibal, I'll need regular examinations, tests, medicines maybe. Tomorrow I'll make an appointment"

"No. I'll do all the work myself. Now be quiet"

* * *

_In the Beginning Harris created 'Silence of the lambs'. And Harris said: 'Let there be a book" and there was the book. And Demme saw that the book was good; and he invited Hopkins over there... Many years passed, and then the Lecterphiles appeared._


	6. Friends and Enemies

**CHAPTER 6: Friends and Enemies**

Crawford ended his telephone conversation and glanced at Mapp before turning his attention back to the laptop.

"Ardelia Mapp, a Quantico field agent. Hello"

"Good morning, sir"

"How can I help you, agent?" He didn't look up from the small monitor.

"Starling's gone away."

"Yes…?" Mapp stirred. What the hell was going on here?

"Her cell's switched off, too. Do you know anything about her whereabouts, Mr. Crawford?"

He settled back and folded his arms behind his head. "She left an email address, which turned to be not working. Apart from that, I have nothing"

"What did she say before she left?"

"She did not speak to me in person. Actually the last time I saw her, it was a month before she resigned. Starling notified me about it through Krendler" Crawford's stomach turned when he said the name. "Strange choice of a messenger, isn't it? I think she was trying to create some kind of a distance between her and myself". Mapp watched him carefully.

"I'm being honest with you" Crawford continued. "I don't know where she's gone to. I'd help Starling if I could. Why wouldn't I? But she just walked out. Maybe she found someone. I don't believe she'd want to reconsider her opinion of the Bureau without a certain influence".

Beats of silence...

"What if Lecter took her?"

Two years back Ardelia Mapp and Clarice Starling were cooking at Mapp's place, chatting, when Starling put the kitchen knife aside and closed her eyes.

"Hey, what's the matter, sport, bored already?" – Mapp put a cigarette in Clarice's mouth and lit it up.

"No...just thinking"

And a minute later, "Ummmm. I've got an acquaintance in the State Hospital for Criminally Insane. A guard" Mapp said. "Says it got real tedious over there without the Good Doctor. Are you sure he won't come after you?"

Long pause, "Sometimes I wish"

"Don't even say that"

Mapp looked straight into Crawford's eyes. "Both Lecter and Starling are victims of childhood trauma and guilt complex is the central base of it. Starling compensates it by saving, Lecter - by killing. Of course, being a brilliant psychotrist he is, Lecter recognised the connection instantly. They are virtually very much alike. They understand each other, they..."

"Kindred Spirits O'Henry eh?" Apparently, the whole thing struck Crawford as very funny and he began to laugh. Although she wasn't sure whether the man was laughing or crying.

* * *

Mason spoke out of the dark, his sentences measured by the stroke of his respirator. 

"By the look on your face, Inspector General Krendler, I take it you brought some damn good news with you"

Paul Krendler retreated casually to the tall window and, slightly pushing the black curtains aside, spoke softly:

"You could say that."

"Cut the crap, Krendler, is he in the States?"

"No. He chose South America, despite what you said about his longing for Europe"

"And…?"

"His ID is perfect. He was found by accident"

"Is the Good Doctor on his way here?"

"Not quite..."

"Do I need to ask WHY?"

"Well" – Krendler returned to his chair and set there, legs crossed. "I needed your personal guidance in what to do next. Things turned out to be even more interesting than I expected" He stood again and, taking an opened folder from the long ebony table, proffered it to Verger in theatrical gesture. Manson looked at the folder's contents for several moments, saving his breath.

"Who's this pussy anyway?"

"Clarice M. Starling, the former agent of the FBI. I'm glad you can't walk, Mr. Verger sir, as what I've got to tell you would knock you off your feet. Lecter and Starling have become right close. Apparently, she left the Bureau for him and they've been together for about 5 months now".

Manson was silent. He felt the excitement of a child.

"And that's not the whole story" Krendler said, turning over the folders' pages, trying not to touch Manson's hand "Look closely at this one" A beat.

"Oh fuck." was all Manson said after a minute.

"Mmmm, yes" Paul Krendler whispered, highly satisfied. "She's expecting Hannibal Lecter's child"

* * *

_In the Beginning Harris created 'Silence of the lambs'. And Harris said: 'Let there be a book" and there was the book. And Demme saw that the book was good; and he invited Hopkins over there... Many years passed, and then the Lecterphiles appeared._


	7. O, won’t we have a merry time

**CHAPTER 7: O, won't we have a merry time, drinking whisky, beer and wine! **

"Какой же ты умный, Ганнибал… аж тошнит"¹

The fallen glass shattered on the restaurant floor. Dr Lecter watched the shards and calmly took a sip of his wine.

"Now I regret it that I taught you Russian, Clarice" – he said quietly as the waiter approached their table. "Todo está en orden"

The waiter nodded and quickly gathering the broken glass disappeared into the kitchen.

"Out of the frying pan" – Starling said, smiling, thinking to herself: "Please God, contain my range, because I want to kill Hannibal" – "You wish Crawford wasn't clever enough to use me on you, don't you? Oh, that's not so bad. Now that you actually took delight in my nice ankles, it won't be hard to get rid of me"

"No doubt" – Lecter drawled, smiling back. – "It'll be much harder to indicate the body, though, since you are, shall we say, traveling incognito. And I'll be sorry to leave those nice ankles of yours".

"You'll manage".

"Кларисс, довольно. Поговорим о чем-нибудь другом. Как тебе нравится еда? Ты хорошо себя чувствуешь?"²

Starling waved it off in impatience. "Еда превосходна, равно как и моё самочувствие, _Доктор_. ³ And I really don't feel like changing the subject. Can I speak freely?"

"If your morals require it"

"Fine. Would you give me some more ice, this is a bit warm"

"Thank you" – Clarice took a sip, and then started to chuckle all of a sudden, spilling the water from her glass. "The morals of a bitch on heat" – She then said coldly, staring hard at him. – "Anyway. In past 4 months I became a nuisance even to myself; I can't boil an egg or make it to the the Teatro Colon. And I see that you're bored… oh you're really bored".

"Trying to quantify me again, Former Agent Starling? I'm touched. It gets harder with every day to draw your attention. You got quite used to indulging in self-pity. It's becoming tedious"

"Ahh, at last we've come to it. "Wound Mother-to-be" – sounds like pretentious piece of piss"

Lecter stopped her with his upraised hand, smiling pleasantly. "That'll be quite enough of that. Wittiness is not really your line. Let me make a suggestion. Find someone who'll look after your clothes, they grow tacky rather quickly. And I really don't believe that Virginian twang of yours is appropriate for first-class restaurants". – Suddenly he leaned closer – "You're crying"

Lecter tried to cup her hand, but Starling withdrew it quickly. "Let go off me" Was all she said.

The wine waiter came into view and replaced the empty bottle next to Dr with a full one. Then he was gone again.

They stared at each other for a full minute.

"Clarice" Lecter purred finally "You might want to bash me over the head with this candlestick, but I have something very special for you in my pocket"

Starling dashed the tear away. "The Harpy, Dr? How very amusing…"

He laughed and Clarice settled back in surprise. Never before had she heard him laughing so openly.

"Now, Clarice. Close your eyes"

"Doctor, please" – She felt tired – "Let me save you some time. We can go outside where there are no witnesses"

Hannibal Lecter leaned forward until he faced her at a distance of a foot – "Clarice".

Ah, whatever, Starling thought and obeyed. For a moment she felt nothing, and than there was his warmth beside her. On a shoulder level, in fact. As if he was kneeling.

A Mercedes Maybach, deep blue and silver, purred through Buenos Aires streets, carrying away the Beast and his Beauty, husband and wife.

¹ "You're so intelligent, Hannibal…that I feel sick"

² "Clarice, enough. Let's change the subject, shall we? Is everything to your liking? Are you feeling well?"

³ "The food is fine, and so am I, _Doctor_"


	8. Sweet Transvestite

**CHAPTER 8: A Soap Impression of His Wife  
**

He already knew it was coming, and then he felt her body tense and shiver slightly as they danced on the restaurant terrace.

"Clarice, take some deep breaths and clear your head. Good. I'll pay the bill and we'll be going". - His voice was quiet, insinuating - "We'll be going home, where it's warm and quiet. Our home, yours and mine"

Soon after he was leading her out of the restaurant. But as one of the waiters rushed to open the door before them, Lecter stopped rather abruptly and tightened his grip on Clarice's waist; then turned around and, forcing Starling to walk alongside, giving his back to the puzzled waiter, silently headed to the ladies' room.

"Hannibal, what are you..."

She saw the Dutch tile approaching with an incredible speed, but was caught in time by two strong arms. Doctor took off his tuxedo jacket and threw it on the tiled floor, urging Clarice to sit down. He pressed his shapely hand with a tiny scar on the back of it to her pale sweaty forehead, then reached for the inside pocket of the jacket under Starling and put out a small flashlight to check her pupils. He then withdrew long enough to open his briefcase. Even when Clarice's due date was not so close, Dr.Lecter had made provisions for emergency in case of an advanced labour or uninvited guests. In a huge cellophane packet under the suitcase's bottom there were money, some clothes and the credentials of another identity, including two passports and the cosmetic aids he and Clarice worn in the passport photos. Above it all wasmedical equipment which he knew would not draw any suspicion.

Doctor pulled out a syringe and breaking the neck of a tiny ampoule loaded it with a correct amount. He slipped the needle into Starling's arm and putting away the syringe started to rub her earlobes in small circles then pulled at them. Clarice went down.

"That's my girl"

Lecter smoothly walked to the mirror and went right down to work. Minor injections of silicone in the cheekbones, mortician wax, a big blond wig; a lock fell down across his red mouth; let's get it back in place...

An insistent knock on the door.

"El seor? A usted todo est en orden? Provocar la ambulancia?"

"No se inquieten, la alarma falsa. Provoquen el taxi." - a cultured female voice answered the intruder.

Dr Lecter, now wearing a rather pecuilar outfit, stood over Clarice and looked down at her thoughtfully.

"Let's make you a big girl. A roomy one"

A minute later, the waiter knocked again, informing the "couple" about the taxi's arrival. He was about to go away, but the same female voice stopped him: "Come in, please" surprised, he heard the door lock turn. He stepped closer to now slowly opening door, only to be dragged inside and pressed against the wall by two incredibly strong arms. The door slapped shut.

"Good evening" A slick blondie greeted him in a low male voice with a slight metallic rasp beneath it.

"Good evening" The waiter answered automatically and felt the "blondie" pressing "her" hand against his mouth to keep him from screaming.

"Ummmm. Do you know who Hannibal Lecter is? Hannibal the Cannibal? Blink twice for yes"

"Thank you, I thought so. I apologize for my rather extravagant appearance. Now, I'm really pressed for time, so be very cooperative. Alright?" and Hannibal Lecter removed his hand.

"Alright" Drops of cold sweat on the waiter's forehead.

"Surely there is a rear entrance down here, for the staff? Where is it?"

"Down the corridor, Senor" - it was a bare whisper - "Next to the Kitchen"

"Is it guarded? If you lie, I'll know----I always do---- What's behind it?"

"No, no; the restaurant's yard, Senor"

"And the staff's cars, surely? Hmmm. Where are the keys?" The waiter fished the car keys out of his pocket. "Which car is yours, dear boy?"

Soon after two particularly strange-looking ladies appeared in the restaurant hall-way, quickly made it to the rear entrance and sneaked outside. They got inside the silk BMW 760 Li and drove off, out of the yard and to the major motorway.

No one paid attention to them. Not even those who'd been watchful.

* * *

Clarice Starling took several breaths, her head pressed back against the car seat. 

"If I fucking wasn't in such fucking pain, I'd fucking laugh my fucking head off"

Dr Lecter, still wearing the wig, was silent. Soon a short scream of pain came from behind.

"Shit! Shit shitting it! Hannibal Lecter, you give me something NOW or I swear I'll shoot you"

Doctor reached for the suitcase on the passenger's seat, put out a syringe and a medicine and silently handed it all to Starling.

"What do I do?"

"Slip the needle into your left arm, but first find the vein." He looked at her through the rear-view mirror. "Hold the syringe at an angle. Try not to touch the needle, keep it sterile."

She held the syringe up high and releasing a tiny jet from the needle slipped it into the vein.

"That's better" She whispered, throwing the syringe away, much to Doctor's displeasure.

"Hey! Alright!" She said a minute later "So that's what an acid trip is like. How wonderful. Yeah. I love it."

This, however, did not last long. Soon Starling was attacked by a new trail of pangs.

"Oh give me a fucking break!" A pause "SHIT"

"Waters?" - Dr Lecter asked not even turning his head.

"YES"

"We're almost there, Clarice" Moments later, which obviously seemed like an eternity to Starling, he pulled over. Doctor pushed off his wig and started to change his clothes.

"Someone pinch me" Starling commented frombehind "Seems like I'm going to give birth in the back seat of a car with a certain cannibalistic transvestite in the front seat"

Dr Lecter lifted Starling in his arms and soon she was lying in a fresh-smelling, semi-dark room. In a state of semisyncope, Starling barely could determine from where Doctor's reassuring voice was coming, as he made the preparations.

* * *

_In the Beginning Harris created 'Silence of the lambs'. And Harris said: 'Let there be a book" and there was the book. And Demme saw that the book was good; and he invited Hopkins over there... Many years passed, and then the Lecterphiles appeared._


	9. French Sauce And Lemon

**CHAPTER 9: French Sauce And Lemon**

Careful silence surrounded Manson Verger. Couched in slumber, he didn't speak for hours. There was no sign of the Good Doctor and his lady in Buenos Aires; he didn't have any clues to their whereabouts. The two of them would simply avoid any public places; after all, Clarice M. Starling is still pregnant and would stand out like a sore thumb.

"Tell Mr.Krendler to get his ass over here." Mason said to his staff.

"Good Morning, Paul" He greeted Inspector General in kindest of tones. "How are you FBI babies getting on?"

"Look, Mr. Verger, there's always a possibility..."

"That you won't get your money, you mean? There sure is. Tell me something. What will Hannibal Lecter do if he finds out just WHO is getting on his nerves?"

Krendler was about to answer, but thought better of it.

"I wonder which organ of yours he'll choose. Surely not your brain for there is no such thing in your head." Mason fell silent, saving his breath. Then said "I'll contact someone in Argentina, but that's a mere formality, really; he'll be out for a while, he's busy with Starling. I can't tell what kind of festival we're missing here. Maybe he'd like to try infantile flesh with French sauce and lemon juice. I wouldn't mind a bite myself."

* * *

Starling woke in semi-dark. She moved slightly on the bed and felt a deep soreness all over. She lay for a while in such anguish, such an intolerable sensation of infinite terror as she had never experienced before. Every minute she felt that she had forgotten something she ought to remember. 

A voice was talking quietly to her.

"Waking, calm." A voice said. "Waking in a pleasant room."

She opened her eyes wide.

Hannibal Lecter stood over her, very still, very fresh-looking. With a kind of effort she began almost unconsciously, from some inner craving, to stare at all the objects before her, as though looking for something.

"Good morning, Clarice."

She sensed a tiny bitterish smell of medicines. She felt very clean, too.

"Where is..." She started, greatly excited, sitting up in the bed, rocking slightly, but Lecter stopped her by raising his finger to his red lips:

"Be very quiet."

He silently urged her to lie back again. Equally silently she grabbed his arm, firmly. Dr Lecter didn't seem to mind. He slowly lowered himself on the bed's edge.

"Sleeping." He answered, motioning somewhere behind him. "He seems to be very displeased with his surroundings."

A boy, then, Starling thought. And immediately heard something she wanted to hear long ago. The soft stirring of a child's body under the covers. Dr Lecter swiftly stood up and walked over to what seemed to be a high-tech infant incubator, and even though Starling was an ace in technique, she didn't know that much about incubators.

A tiny whimpering could be heard now. Doctor was carrying something very small wrapped in swaddling clothes.

"Morning, young man." Lecter was saying. "Welcome back. Hungry, I see. Very well." And to her "Would you like to feed us now, Madame?"

Starling fed the new-born as Dr Lecter watched the infant's throat making sure he was swallowing alright. She then saw the baby blink and yowl, rolling his unseeing eyes back into the eyelids. She was herself and not herself. When she wondered about events it was as though she saw them from the side, saw herself from a distance. Dr Lecter put the infant back in the incubator and laid down beside her.

Soon they were kissing madly. "Where are we?" Clarice asked finally, breathless, as Lecter nuzzled her neck with kisses, his red and pointed tongue appearing every now and then.

"Still in Argentina" He found her new scent intensely moving. "We'll have to move on as soon as the baby's ready. And I'd like to make some cosmetic changes." "Hungry?"

"Not yet, Hannibal, thank you." She paused. "You never said where exactly we're going."

"Ну, Кларисс, это же очевидно¹. St. Petersburg, Город на Неве ²."

¹ Isn't it obvious/It must be self-evident

² The City on the Neva)

* * *

_In the Beginning Harris created 'Silence of the lambs'. And Harris said: 'Let there be a book" and there was the book. And Demme saw that the book was good; and he invited Hopkins over there... Many years passed, and then the Lecterphiles appeared._


	10. Stay with me for a while

**CHAPTER 10: Stay for a while, I have loved you for so, so long.**

Night in the heart of St. Petersburg, the old city artfully lighted. The Winter Palace rising from the dark square, floodlit, soaring into the black sky.

Off-shore eddy wind walks royal, alone in his kingdom, around the Alexander Column and down the narrow streets.

Limousines are backed up at the Alexander Theater, St. Petersburg's most elegant opera house. A pair of tourists stopped to watch the opera lovers go in. At that moment a black Jaguar Saloon whispered up to the curb. A doorman hurried to open the car.

A man, slender and elegant in white tie, got out and handed out a woman. The sight of her raised an admiring murmur in the crowd around the entrance. Her hair was black, curly, fastened with long ornamental straight pins; emeralds flashed sea-green at her throat. She wore a long dinner gown, narrowly but deeply décolleté beneath an exquisite beaded jacket. There was an air of absolute stillness around her.

Just before the houselights went down the lady and her escort came through the crimson curtains into their ornate box beside the stage and took their seats. The gentleman took a champagne flute from a waiter's tray saying "Добрый вечер. Благодарю." (Good evening. Thank you.) and handed it to the lady, then took a glass himself.

A tall brunette, madly attractive, came up to them.

"Добрый вечер, Ганнибал." (Good evening, Hannibal.)

In Russia it is not common to address a person by their title. Dr.Lecter has not got a patronymic name and he is used to the Russians often calling him by his given name.

"Здравствуйте" (Hello.) the doctor said. The brunette waited with a slight inclination of the head, until Dr Lecter had to make the introduction.

"Beatrice, позволь познакомить тебя с Олегом Погудиным, серебряным голосом России." (Allow me to present you Oleg Pogudin, The Silver Voice Of Russia.)

The young gentlemen bent over Clarice's hand and pressed his lips to it. Her expression didn't change.

"Вам приходилось раньше видеть "Годунова?"" (Have you seen "Godunov" before?) the young man asked.

"О нет, я вижу оперу впервые" (Oh no, I'm afraid it'll be the first time I see the opera.) Starling said, her smile only polite.

"Уверен, Вы получите огромное удовольствие, Beatrice. Это настоящая русская классика." (Oh I'm sure you'll enjoy it. It's a real Russian classic.) Pogudin said with a charming smile. "Мы с Вашем мужем много говорили о русском балете, а также о русском романсе. Поверите ли, он знает обо всем этом даже больше, чем я!" (Your husband and I talked a lot about The Russian Ballet Tradition and also about The Russian Romance. By god, he knows about all this even more than I do, can you imagine that?)

At that moment someone called the romance singer from behind and he gracefully excused himself. The gentleman turned to his lady and, taking some reading in her eyes, smiled, his teeth very white: "I could never entirely predict you. My impression was that you were quite an admirer of his. "Не уходи… Побудь со мною… Я так давно тебя люблю…" (Don't go away...Stay for a while...I have loved you for so, so long.) I particularly remember that delicious tear on your cheek, when you first heard it."

The pair returned to their seats. Eyeing the first rows beneath them, the woman said absently:

"These tedious little fools."

Her escort was silent. The light went down. The lady seemed to be in perfect control of herself. But when the gentlemen glanced at her sidelong, he nevertheless asked quietly:

"Clarice, what is the matter?"

Starling's eyes swept over the house restlessly, before she answered coldly: "Nothing is the matter, Dr; let's enjoy the Godunov, shall we?" and turned away.

As soon as the lights came up for the first intermission, Hannibal Lecter spoke again:

"Clarice, something definitely worries you. I also believe that the very cause of your worry is our little lamb being left without your all-seeing eye."

She brought her face close to his.

"May I ask you not to seek for patterns? Thank you."

Lecter found the shine of champagne's drop on her lip intensely arousing. "I will not, Clarice." A beat. "Shame".

She glanced at him with indifference. "Mmmmm?"

"Clarice. It'll be the first time I've left the opera without seeing it up to the end." He stood up. "After you."

Starling needed no second bidding.

As soon as they got into the Jaguar, she drew him closer and wrapped her exposed arms around his neck: "Thank you, Doctor."

"See if it never happens again".

"That I promise you".

Lecter's hand rested on her thigh. He moved it up slowly as Clarice kissed him possessively and ran her hand over his chest.

"I wonder, Clarice, I wonder if you still have the .45 on your leg beneath the gown" – He breathed.

Starling withdrew slightly, not taking her eyes off his red lips.

"There's only one way to find out."

* * *

The dark man came out of nowhere, passing them, hardly pausing in his stride, his fingers scrambling inside the doctor's coat. A very improbable scenario for a street dip, even in St. Pete. Clarice Starling saw the stranger twisting away, then there was a blow-like low movement between the two of them. The whole scene took mere seconds and there the man was going away, free and unhurt. Starling was behind Dr Lecter almost instantly. 

"We cannot let him go."

Lecter did not turn around to face her.

"He won't get far. I sent a knife through his femoral artery. He'll bleed out." And after a pause: "Bring the child and my briefcase, then call the driver. I'll wait."

His wife was about to rush inside their Petersburg's cream-colored house, when saw a blood drop land on the cobblestone pavement under the doctor. Slowly, she went around to face him, only to see a massive wound in his stomach.

"Oh dear" Starling said. Her husband bent over briefly, breathing hard, then tried to straighten up, but his knees were going. "In the house" Starling said in an unnaturally calm voice. She helped him inside and up the stairs. Thank God the staff was taught to come out only at a bell's ringing. She urged him to lie down. Obviously, Hannibal Lecter was in a state of semisyncope, otherwise he'd have already taken over control.

Nevertheless, he said quietly:

"They've found us. Book a flight to Rio. Pay _only _by cash. Take my briefcase. I'll join you shortly".

"No." was all Starling said as she moved to grab some medicines, when felt her arm seized in a terrific grip.

"Listen to me" Lecter hissed. "Mason drinks their tears like a fine wine---literally. He will not kill him outright. He'll watch him grow; he'll build the inner rages inside the child's mind. If you want it to happen, stay."

Starling's jaw twisted.

"Leave some medicines. If the wound had been lethal, I'd have already bled out by now. Do like I said."

She quickly walked over to the closet and brought all the medical equipment. She composed it on the bed near his lying form. At that moment a tiny whimpering came from the downstairs. Starling bent over her husband. Their lips brushed. Before the kiss could deepen, he pulled her away. "Go."

* * *

_In the Beginning Harris created 'Silence of the lambs'. And Harris said: 'Let there be a book" and there was the book. And Demme saw that the book was good; and he invited Hopkins over there... Many years passed, and then the Lecterphiles appeared._


	11. Hello Again, Hello

**CHAPTER 11: Hello Again, Hello  
**

On an exceptionally hot evening early in July a man, slender and elegant in fine slacks, came out of the garret in which he lodged in the Rio's centre and walked slowly, as though in hesitation, towards Rio-Niterói Bridge. A minute later he stood on the parapet near a patterned gate leading to a courtyard of an exquisite Beaux Arts building. The man stood for some minutes with his head back and eyes closed, then walked across the street and leaned at ease against a high stone wall.

Here they are.

A platinum blond lady in exquisite clothes with a little boy beside her walked out of the courtyard and started to make her way down the street. The man stood away from the wall and followed them unhurriedly.

The lady turned round the corner and disappeared in a quiet dark alley that was bounded on both sides by buildings. Looking out carefully, the man saw her come in a perfumer's shop. The infant was left outside near the entrance.He was slim, precise (what else is new) and had very fine features.

The boy was watching little stones lying on the bottom of an antique fountain, when saw a dark shadow cover the water surface. He looked up.

"Hello" the man said softly, crouching down to his eye level.

"Hello."

"Where's your mother?"

"Gone to the shop"

"Who looks after you, then?"

"I do. Like a good boy. I'm not to go with you anywhere."

The man laughed quietly. Then asked:

"Where's your father?"

"He's gone on an airplane. It's a secret." The man saw the lady take out her pursue.

"Ummmm. Don't tell anyone that you saw me, okay?" – The boy nodded willingly. – "It's a secret between us. I'll come and see you later. You go to your mother now."

TWO WEEKS LATER: She just stood there in a crowd stream, unable to come up or say anything. That morning Clarice Starling and her 3-year old son left their exquisite home and went for a walk. Mere seconds ago they were watching the Grande Rio Samba School Parade, when suddenly her son freed his hand out of her grip and ran somewhere behind. Starling sharply turned around and… froze.

"Well hello Clarice"

Her eyes opened wide at the sight of him. It was the greatest shock Starling had ever felt in her life. For a second she thought that the sky would fall down as well, that everything would start to dance and shatter. But it did not. Instead she saw her husband, Dr Hannibal Lecter, pick up their son and approach her casually.

* * *

Dr Lecter held a bottle of Chateau d'Yquem up to the light. He looked at his watch and decided it was time to open the wine. 

"I thought you bled out then." Starling spoke out of the dark. "Or someone came and finished you off. The boy was growing up quickly and that was the only thing that kept me sane; the thought of a baby at home".

He handed her a small crystal glass of honey-colored wine, then sat at the piano and, never looking down, only feeling, started to play, eyes closed.

"I'd had time to stop the wound before I passed out for several hours. Thank you for leaving the food and the water on the night table, by the way. When I woke, I did some "sew work" and then passed out once more. I was healing."

"It wouldn't be safe for the two of you if I'd have come sooner. Besides, I had to take care of a certain unfinished business."

Starling stood behind him. His hands stopped, still spread above the keyboard. Slowly, he stood up and turned to face her. "How did you name him, Clarice?"

"Marcus. He's hardly the type, though. Restless, fidgety, never still for a minute. Bags of energy, a bit like a boxer in his prime." A pause. "Does Mason still search for you?"

"Mason is dead."

"So you'll stay?"

"I'll stay."

Tucked up in his exquisite bed, their son was sleeping soundly, dreaming of a small maroon-eyed girl and a few milk teeth in the reeking stool pit.

-Fin-

* * *

Well, that is it, I guess. Or are you asking for MORE:-) I must thank all the reviewers – love you, guys )))))

* * *

_In the Beginning Harris created 'Silence of the lambs'. And Harris said: 'Let there be a book" and there was the book. And Demme saw that the book was good; and he invited Hopkins over there... Many years passed, and then the Lecterphiles appeared._


End file.
